


Pent Up

by vehlr



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:01:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4438217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/vehlr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a fine line between being sexually frustrated and sexually furious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Set-up

It is not ideal, jerking himself off in the passenger seat of his friend’s car, but he’ll take what he can get. One hand tight around his cock, hot angry breaths and tempered grunts and a fantasy of legs wrapped around his waist and a soft eager mouth on his neck, and he could -

The boot clicks open, alerting him to Hawke’s return. With a grimace he stuffs himself back into his trousers, trying to straighten himself up 

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ” 

He is sick of it - sick of rutting into his own damned hand, sick of the constant interruptions to even _that_ sad activity, sick of his fucking cock and his fucking needs and his blasted fucking _desire_ for another woman he could not have -

There was a fine line between being sexually frustrated and sexually furious, and Varric Tethras has officially crossed it.

*

Leliana must be psychic, Cassandra decides.

She loved her friend, she really did, but any time Cassandra even considered getting some… _alone_ time, there Leliana would be, with a sweet smile and a suggestion of something for the pair of them to do. They had learned needlepoint, painted the lounge, feng shui’d the kitchen, taken up ballroom dancing, all of which had been fun, but Cassandra was a creature of certain comforts, and that included… _alone_ time.

There was a fine line between being sexually frustrated and sexually furious. Cassandra is dangerously close to booking a hotel room just to get some damned… _alone_ time.

“You know,” starts Leliana, glancing up as they clip coupons from the local papers, “my imposed celibacy is understandable, given that my lover is overseas, but you should not feel that you cannot bring anyone home.”

“What?”

“Well, I cannot help but notice a… lack… of male admirers gracing our apartment.”

She rolls her eyes, straightening the pile of discounts that they would doubtless forget on their next grocery trip. “I have none to bring home. Work keeps me busy.”

“But all work and no play -”

“Oh, trust me. I know that sentiment,” she mutters.

“Well, at least you have your books,” Leliana teases, smiling wryly. “Those romance novels must have seen some action!”

Cassandra’s hands still, her eyes finding her friend’s with a cold glare.

Leliana looks perfectly innocent. “What?”

“You _have_ been doing it on purpose!”

“I am sure I don’t know _what_ you are talking about.” She straightens in her seat, before smiling coyly. “Drinks tonight? There’s a new bar in town. New bar, new men…”

“I hate you.” A beat. “Maker, I _hate_ you. Yes, fine.” At the very least, she reasoned internally, she could get some blasted peace in the bathroom stalls…


	2. The Pay-off

The club is shit.

“Look,” he says, rolling his eyes for the fourth time in as many minutes, “just because it’s downstairs from my place, does not make it _good_.”

“Yeah, but you can tell girls you live right upstairs and they’ll come home with you,” points out Hawke.

“Could you just drop it about the girls?”

“Could you just get over the last one already?”

They have bickered like this for weeks, so frequent and snippy that any interruption is barely noticed. Today is no different. 

“Excuse me?”

Turning, Varric looks up into the eyes of a goddess, all legs and miniskirt and toned skin that invited his imagination to dream.

“I, ah… I was wondering if you…”

He stares at her. “Is this a joke?” he says finally. “Because it’s _not_ funny.”

“No, I -”

“Just fuck off, alright? It’s insulting.”

She blanches, before turning on her heel, hands balling into fists as she stalks away. He shakes his head, muttering under his breath.

“What the _fuck_ , Varric?” Hawke says, nudging him. “That was -”

“Don’t you fucking ‘Varric’ me, pal. You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Sending the most attractive woman over to play pretend? Fuck you. I know I’m not exactly a dreamboat but I’m happy with what I can get!”

“You think that was me? Mate, are you for real?”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, sure, like I believe a word you say after that mess with the fucking bread -”

“Varric!” Hawke grabs his wrist. “I swear on my mother’s _life_ , I have no idea who that woman was.”

He stills, the anger fading from him. His mother was not an utterance used lightly. _Oh_. “Shit. Shit shit _shit_.” He drags a hand over his face. “Oh, fucking shit fuck.”

“Apology accepted,” deadpans the man with a smirk. 

“Sorry. Shit. I have to go sort this fucking mess out, don’t I?”

“Might I suggest a change of vocabulary?”

“I make no promises.” He scans the bar. “Shit, she’s not here.”

Hawke grabs his face. “Varric. Woman rejected by hot dwarf in explosive fashion? Only one place she’ll be.” Turning Varric’s face, he indicates the club toilets.

Varric swallows. “Shit.”

*

He is catcalled the moment he pushes the door open.

“Ladies! Sorry about the intrusion, but there’s someone I need to talk to.”

They glare as one, and he shrinks even further under their gaze. One steps forward – a redhead with eyes that might literally kill him.

“You should not be here.”

“I can see that,” he says lightly. “But I need to make amends -”

“She’s a good person,” she continues. “And you are a horrible little man.”

He winces. _Oh no. The best friend_. “Yeah, I am. But I -”

“Then go away. Or I’ll make you regret it.”

Behind her, one of the cubicles opens, revealing the injured party. He sidesteps her friend. “Hey! Hey, I’m sorry!”

She beckons him closer, and the women part as he shuffles past. Without warning, she grabs him by the collar, roughly dragging him into the cubicle and slamming him up against the wall. “Give me one reason why I should believe you,” she hisses.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he gasps.

“ _I_ am not the one skulking in the wrong toilets!”

“… point. Please, just…” He wrestles free of her hand, and she perches on the toilet lid, continuing to glare at him. “Look,” he murmurs, leaning against the cubicle door. “I really _am_ sorry. My friend, Hawke? He’s been going on and on about me getting with a girl, and I thought this whole night was a set-up -”

She manages a slight smile. “I suppose I can understand that. My friend has made similar overtures recently.”

“Yeah?” He grins, a crooked thing. “Bet you my sob story beats yours.”

“You were apologising?”

“Oh, right – look, I thought… I thought he asked you to ask me – I mean, I don’t _get_ really attractive girls coming up to me in bars. Ever.”

She pulls a face. “Do not try flattery, you already made it quite clear how you see me -”

“I was _insulted_ ,” he interrupts, “because you’re _way_ out of my league. I thought Hawke was just rubbing it in.”

“Yes, because that is perfectly believable -”

“Oh, for the love of – _look_ ,” he growls, grabbing her hand and pressing it against his trousers. The disdain falls from her face, replaced by surprise as her fingers trace his hardness, and he swallows the noise that his throat threatens to let loose. “You’re hot,” he says finally, a waver in his voice, “like, surface of the _sun_ hot, even when you’re threatening me. Maybe _especially_ because you’re threatening me. And I’m an ass who thinks it’s _way_ more likely that he’s being punked than think someone like you could ever even _look_ at someone like me… but I _am_ sorry for being a total ass. And, uh… I want to buy you all of your drinks, but you don’t have to talk to me or anything. I’m just… sorry.”

She leans forward, staring into his eyes. He feels bare beneath her gaze.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I believe you.” And with that, her hands move to his belt, undoing it.

“Whoa whoa - _whoa_ -” His head falls back against the door as she slips long fingers beneath his pants. “Lady, you – _fuck_ , what are you -”

She chuckles, palm sliding along his length. “Shut up,” she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, “or I might change my mind.”

“You’re serious? Like –“ his mind flounders as he grasps for words. “Shit. Like, for _real_ serious?”

She squeezes gently, and his throat makes an inhuman noise. “Yes,” she says softly.

“Why?”

She lets out a short sigh. “Do you want the short answer or the longer answer?”

“Uh -”

“No, it is not a trick question,” she adds.

He smiles weakly. “Short one?”

“I want to.”

He blinks. “Oh. And the, uh… longer one?”

She shifts, just enough to part her legs, before taking his hand and sliding it down the front of her skirt. His eyes widen as fingers part slick flesh. “I really, _really_ want to,” she breathes.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groans, his free hand cupping her neck as he pulls her into a crushing kiss. It is as if a spell breaks over him, his body pressing against hers as his fingers press into her. She lets out a whimper, her hand tightening around him, and he ruts into her grip.

“Please,” she moans, “please, I need -”

“You want this here, or in my apartment upstairs?”

“You live upstairs?”

“The fire escape is just outside the window -”

“You want me to climb out a _window?_ ”

“Just a suggestion.” He presses just so, and she rests her head in the crook of his neck, a strangled cry escaping her. “I mean, I’d _much_ rather fuck you up there where I know we’re not gonna _catch_ something, but I don’t really want to have to deal with my friend out there.”

She nods. “Good point.”

“And _your_ friend will basically kill me, which is a huge turn-off…”

“She really will.”

“So…” He pulls his hand free, licking his fingers as he holds her gaze.

She swallows. “Window?”

“Window.”

*

Varric balances the cigarette between his lips, taking care as he lights it not to drop the first few flecks of ash on his chest – or, more accurately, on the hand sprawled over his chest. The hand that belonged to the gorgeous woman he had just given three fantastic orgasms to.

Maker, but he is a cliché.

She plucks the cigarette from his lips, taking a long drag.

“Those things’ll kill you,” he murmurs, watching her blow a trail of smoke.

“I have learnt that life is short,” she retorts, “but I rarely indulge in these.” She rolls onto her front, propping herself up on her elbows as she looks up at him.

_Fuck, she really is beautiful.  
_

He rocks onto his side, facing her. “By the way,” he drawls, offering his hand. “I’m Varric.”

She laughs, pressing a kiss to his palm. “Cassandra.”

“Nice to meet you, Cassandra.”

She nips his finger lightly. “I like the way you say it.”

He leans over to whisper in her ear. _“Cassandra.”_

Her shiver runs through him, a soft exhale escaping her. “Varric -”

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckles, sliding a hand down her side. “I see your point, that _is_ hot…”

She laughs, kissing his cheek. “Down, tiger. I need a break.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying. You’re stunning.” He settles back against the pillows.

“Flatterer.” She lets out a long sigh. “Maker, this is insane. I never do this.”

He reaches out to stroke her hair softly. “Let me guess. You’re the workaholic, too busy for such frivolities.”

She smiles. “Something like that.” The smile fades slightly. “I used to have time for someone. But he died, and I… I never really got back on the horse.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is.” She looks up at him. “My sob story always wins,” she adds with a slight smile.

He chuckles. “Yeah, you beat mine. Boy meets girl, falls in love, loses her at the altar to a richer man…”

“Oh.”

“I know, right? It’s a classic.” He smiles. “And yet she kept me around, always at arm’s length. Guess I’m a sucker.”

Her hand strokes his cheek. “You are a romantic,” she corrects, “but it is not your story.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” He stubs out the cigarette. “Hey, why did you come over to me? You don’t really strike me as the type who needs to rustle up a guy on her own.”

She scoffs. “I do not exactly have a waiting list,” she drawls.

“Yeah, but you could have _anyone._ ”

“And I wanted you.” She laughs. “Is that so strange?”

“Well, yeah. Look at you, and then look at me.”

She rolls onto her side, looking up at him with a serious expression. “Yes? And?”

“And I’m not exactly, you know… Hawke.”

“You compare yourself to him a lot?”

“No, that’s my point. We’re nothing alike.”

“Good. He is not my type.” She pokes him in the ribs, earning a grunt. “Stop chasing that thought. You are you, and you are attractive.”

He gives this some thought. “Yeah, but not like… in-your-league attractive. I mean, sure, _I’d_ fuck me, but -”

She giggles. “Shut up, Varric.”

He shuffles down against the pillow, letting out a long sigh as he relaxes. “So, uh… do you want to get dinner some time?”

She laughs. “Like a date?”

“Why not?”

“Oh, I would _love_ to. I just…” She shrugs.“Are we not doing this out of order?”

He grins. “Naah, if it was completely backwards I’d have proposed. And you’re good, but you’re not _that_ good.”

She cocks an eyebrow, smile wicked. “Oh really…?” Her hand slides down his torso, and he shivers.

“Well, another demonstration wouldn’t go amiss…”

She moves between his legs, smiling up at him. “I am quite sure I can manage that… Varric.”

And unsurprisingly, she does.


End file.
